He also knew there are no guarantees ... in space or the dicey job Barry did flying S-3 Vikings on and off aircraft carriers.

You're prepared ...

But if it's your time to go ...

Columbia passed the 86th second and was going strong into space.

What Barry, Audrey and their family members didn't know was 82 seconds into Columbia's flight a piece of foam broke off the spacecraft's external tank.

More than two weeks later, it proved fatal.

'Willie's gone'

Something was wrong after Barry had gone back into his Las Vegas home when he heard Houston saying they'd lost infrared radar contact with the shuttle and its crew of seven astronauts.

He got a sickening feeling in his stomach when he saw the flight director's expression.

Barry saw it in the man's eyes. Saw his head was down.

He looked at Audrey and said, "Willie's gone."

She didn't believe it.

"Are you sure?" she asked him.

Barry hugged Audrey and told her he had to get to Houston.

Willie had designated Barry as one of his casualty assistant officers - someone who would take care of paperwork and distribution of personal effects if he died.

It was a role Barry had filled for others during his career in the Marines.

Duty called.

He had to get to Houston to carry out Willie's wishes.

Audrey could see Barry was getting more hyper as he thought of what he needed to do to get to Houston.

She didn't want him driving to McCarran International Airport and got a friend to come and take him.

Audrey took a call from her daughter, Kirstie, who was at Cape Canaveral, waiting for her brother to land.

NASA had taken the families away on a bus, but didn't tell them what happened - adding to the angst.

Audrey told Kirstie. She relayed the news to family members of other astronauts - including Commander Rick Husband's brother and mother.

Barry headed to the airport and Audrey stayed home - handling logistics. She got a car and hotel for Barry in Houston. She talked more to Kirstie and others.

Journey to Houston

Barry went past a line of waiting people, walked up to the Southwest Airlines counter and told a woman, "I'm Lieutenant Commander McCool. My son is Willie McCool and he was just killed on the shuttle. I need to get to Houston."

Their computers were down.

She ran to United Airlines to see if they could help.

While he waited, he had time to think.

It hit him again ... Willie was dead.

He turned to see 250 people looking at him with daggers ... wondering why he just walked up to the counter and why the staff was helping him.

He started to tear up.

The woman came back and said United's computers were also down.

Finally, another woman's computer was working.

They set up his trip. Las Vegas to Lubbock to Austin to Houston.

A golf cart rushed him to the gate, where five different Southwest employees hugged him and told him they were holding a seat.

The flight crew greeted him and put him in the emergency row of the 737 with extra leg room for Barry's 6-foot, 7-inch frame.

He settled in with his duffle bag and started thinking about Willie's wife, Lani, and what she was going through at Cape Canaveral in Florida, where the shuttle was going to land.

At some point, Barry realized there was no one sitting in his row.

Or the row ahead or behind him.

All three rows were sealed off with yellow tape.

And people were starting to look.

Barry wondered if they thought he was a convict with a social disease.

Flight attendants kept asking if he was OK.

The co-pilot and later the pilot came back to visit and shared condolences.

Word started to get around the plane about who the man was beyond the yellow tape.

Passengers reach out in Lubbock

The plane landed in Lubbock, where the McCools lived, where Willie graduated from Coronado High School.

As passengers got off, they handed Barry notes on Southwest napkins, expressing their sorrow and best wishes.

Women were crying and wanted to hug him.

At the stop in Austin, the flight crew asked Barry if he'd had anything to eat.

They took him off the plane and got him food from McDonald's and Burger King, also some barbecue and tacos.

In Houston, he waited in line for his rental car.

When he showed the woman his driver's license, she said, "You're Mr. McCool."

She started crying, came out from behind the counter and apologized they had to charge him for the car.

She told Barry she was going to talk to the president of the company.

Barry drove to the hotel room Audrey had gotten for him.

He and Audrey were still figuring out what was going to happen the next day and what they could do.

In Vegas

Back in Vegas, Audrey was getting lots of calls from media.

Because she was a tenured full professor at the University of Nevada Las Vegas, the school sent over its public affairs officer, who took over handling phones and set up a news conference in the McCools' front yard for early evening.

Audrey dealt with the questions until her colleague cut off the media and said that was enough.

Audrey doesn't remember the questions or most of what she said.

Like Barry, her military training kicked in. The retired colonel had a job to do.

Even if she was in shock the day she lost her oldest son.

To comment on this story:

terry.greenberg@lubbockonline.com • 766-8700

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